


Guide

by hitthehospital



Series: Shoes [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, ballet!lock, rugby!john, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9711737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitthehospital/pseuds/hitthehospital
Summary: Sherlock and John break into the dance studio (part of a series)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [highlytrainedfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlytrainedfangirl/gifts).



The door swung open. John peered inside.The hall was grotty, the cream painted brick walls lead up a flight of stairs 10 meters in front. The only light was from the open door.  
"It's the fire escape for the studio," Sherlock explained. He looked down at John and smiled nervously. "Follow me."  
The two boys entered, the taller one walking confidently forward whilst the other hovered behind tentatively. The door slammed behind them, plunging the hall into darkness. John blinked, willing his eyes to adjust to the dark.  
The blond was startled when a slender hand slipped into his.  
"It's only me." He heard the familiar voice and relaxed. "The lights in the hall have been broken for a while now - they never seem to get round to fixing them." John could almost see the irritated expression on Sherlock's face.   
He smiled softly.  
Sherlock continued. "My phone torch broke thanks to some idiots the other night," John could feel Sherlock grinning in the darkness and the smaller boy couldn't help but chuckle. "I know you don't have a smart phone so I'll just lead you up the stairs."  
The pair stood for a second, John's hand in Sherlock's. John's heart beat was deafening.  
Sherlock broke the silence. "I'm um... I'm going to need to put my..." He stopped. "I'm going to have to guide you.... do you mind if I..." He cautiously placed his hand on the other boy's hip. John's breath hitched in his throat. Sherlock jumped back. "I won't do that.   
I'll find another way, I -"  
"It's fine." John swallowed. "I need to get up these bloody stairs anyway."  
"Okay."  
Sherlock let his hands rest on John's hip and arms once more. John wills his heart to slow down. He breathes.  
The two boys shuffle into the darkness, the taller boy guiding his friend's body. John's foot hit the bottom step and he stumbled. Sherlock's fingers gripped him tightly. "Are you okay?"  
"Yeh... yeh thanks."  
"Good." Sherlock tugged him slightly. The two started up the stairs.  
John was so conscious of Sherlock's touch, he dared not breathe.  
Although there was only one flight, the ascent felt like it took a lifetime.  
When they finally reached the top of the stairs Sherlock let John out of his grasp, leaving the smaller boy feeling vulnerable. John clutched his bag strap. He heard a bang and started.   
"What the fuck was that?" He hissed.  
The taller boy's voice came from the darkness. "Nothing - just opening the door."  
"By kicking it down?"  
"You just have to open it a certain way..." _Clank_. "There we go."  
The door swung open, sending light streaming into the hallway.  
John squinted.  
"Why didn't we go through the front door?"  
"Well, the building isn't technically open until another hour," Sherlock picked up his satchel. "So we broke in."  
John froze. "Jesus, Sherlock! That's illegal."  
Sherlock looked back at him and shrugged. "You coming?"  
The blond sighed. "Yes."   
The pair walked forward. "Well, I've got to change. The studio is down the hall to the right." He turned and started to stride the opposite way down the corridor.  
"Sherlock," John hissed. "I don't like this."  
"You'll be fine." He yanked open another door. "I've done this loads."   
And with that he was gone.  
John huffed. What was he getting himself into?  
He dragged his rucksack across the wood-panelled floor, his shoes clipping as he walked. He pushed open the door at the end of the corridor, grimacing at peeling paint. How is this place still open?  
The door creaked open and John slipped inside.  
The studio was surprisingly okay. Light streamed in from the tall windows, dust motes suspended in the rays.  
John's footfalls echoed on the sprung floor as he skirted the edge of the white room. He slid down the mirrored wall, landing on the wood floor with a slight bump. The blond sighed. He closed his eyes.  
John's eyes flicked back open when the door creaked. Sherlock stood before him, his uniform swapped for a white t-shirt and black leggings.  
The brunette smirked at John, before turning and slinking to the other corner, satchel in hand. He crouched next to the stereo speaker. His delicate fingers carefully drew a CD from his bag and placed it in the player. Sherlock's eyes skirted back to John quickly. He pressed play. The machine whirred as it found the tracker. The boy made his way to the centre of the room and stood, eyes closed, waiting for the music to begin.  
A violin sighed through the silence. Sherlock slowly extended his arm above his head and lowered it down, his gaze following his finger tips. He flicked his gaze over to the other boy and smiled softly. John deflated at that tender look.  
With each graceful movement, the blond was drawn into the narrative of motion, pulled deeper under. As the music crescendoed, the realisation dawned on him that no matter how wrong it was, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, he was infatuated with this strange boy.   
As the violin sang one last sorrowful note, Sherlock locked eyes with his counterpart. He lowered his arms. "Well, there it is. It's not the best I've performed it, I mean there were some major-"  
"-that was amazing."  
The brunette blinked quickly, stunned by the comment. "Really?"  
"That was the best I've seen," John exclaimed. "I mean, I haven't seen much but I-"  
"-do you want to see another?" The boy waited nervously for John's confirmation, rocking slightly in his black ballet shoes.  
"Oh, God yes."  
The two smiled.  
John Watson loved Sherlock Holmes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you can see any mistakes can you please let me know?


End file.
